WWE: The Game Strikes Again
by Christian Orton
Summary: The sequel to "WWE: The Game Returns", it continues the fictional tale of an aging Triple H as he struggles to have one last run at the top.
1. Prologue

It was a cold, rainy day. Dozens were gathered at the funeral of professional wrestler, John William Reily, better known as ECW Superstar Hush. It was a private ceremony; no fans, no strangers. Just close friends and family. As the coffin was slowly lowered into the ground, a young woman with a small child in her arms began weeping uncontrollably. The child, less than a year old, gazed into the deep, dark earth that would be his father's final resting place. Beside them stood a large man with his head bowed down in respect and grief. He glanced towards the child and smiled, though there was not a single happy thought in his head. With a deep breath, he sighed and left the crowd.

"Goodbye, John." Triple H said to himself quietly.

"You were a good soldier. In the end you honored me."

He walked passed a dying old tree. He felt its rough exterior against his hand and compared the similarities. They were both withered and old. Soon, the end will come for him as well. This has been a good life, he decided. But it can still be better. A black limo pulled up at the pavement. Triple H opened the limo door and stepped inside. Inside was a man dressed in black with his eyes towards the environment outside. Neither man spoke until they were far away from the cemetery.

"It's been two weeks. Where have you been?"

"Doing your job whilst you were out mourning."

"Jason, I realize you and Hush were not the best of friends, but show respect. Even the dead have ears."

Jason Teague turned towards Triple H. The man was different now. He seemed to have aged quite a lot in a short amount of time. The laughter in his voice was gone. Only a sense of duty and seriousness left. Sometimes Triple H wondered if disbanding the man's only family in the WWE, DX 2.0, had cost him his happiness. Jason held a piece of paper in his hand and gave to Triple H.

"What's this?"

"It's your contract," Jason said sheepishly, "You have a rematch clause, remember?"

"I remember."

"And it expires this month."

Triple H meticulously read the fine print. It was true. His WWE contract will in fact, expire at the end of July, the day after the Great American Bash. Jason took a sip of water and continued to stare out the window. The rain had just gotten worse. It was a rare rainy day in the middle of summer. Triple H bent over, suddenly feeling excruciating pain in his stomach. He took some pills from out of his pocket and swallowed them dry.

"Don't go overboard with those pills unless you want to have a drug problem."

"Relax, Jason. It's prescribed." Triple H said weakly.

"Yeah, well how do you explain the hallucinations you've been having?"

"An unfortunate side-effect…it will come to pass."

"Whatever you say, so what's the plan?"

"The usual: Exercise my rematch clause and get my title back at The Great American Bash."

Jason didn't reply. He simply smiled at Triple H and turned back towards the window. Triple H suddenly felt drowsy, dropping his pills on the floor. Soon he had fallen into a deep sleep in his seat. Jason picked up his pills and examined it. Afterwards he placed them back into Triple H's pocket and urged their driver to get to the hotel faster.


	2. The New Era

In Stamford, Connecticut stands World Wrestling Entertainment Headquarters.

It has stood there for more than half a century, a testament to the dominance of arguably the most powerful wrestling company in the world. A black Porsche drove through its gates. Stephanie McMahon-Levesque was not in a good mood. He drove quickly towards the parking lot and parked the Porsche in her parking space. Life as the new CEO of World Wrestling Entertainment had not been kind to her.

"Good afternoon, ma'am," The security guard said as he opened the door.

"Afternoon to you too," Stephanie said in a hurry.

She had been summoned by the Board of Directors, each one with an individual complaint. Stephanie had just met with them last week, and their problems took hours to resolve. Apparently they had a problem with the way she was running the company. Over the past couple of months the superstars had become surprisingly lethargic. Nobody could figure out why. Whether it was a lack of motivation, lack of desire, or something else completely different…

Stephanie finally arrived at the top floor. He took a deep breath and sighed before entering.

"Gentlemen, sorry I'm late." Stephanie said.

"Just sit down, Mrs. Levesque, so we can get started." One of them replied.

Stephanie tried not to change her facial expressions at this remark. In all her years observing her father and brother make business with these people, never had she heard any of them speak with that tone. In her father's presence, they were all practically yes-men.

"Ok, so what seems to be the problem boys? Enlighten me."

"As of this morning, your parents had officially retired from this company."

"My parents," Stephanie said in a suspicious tone, "Have been retired for years. What do you mean?"

"I mean, they sold their major assets to an investor this morning."

Stephanie couldn't believe what she heard. He parents were major stockholders.

"Wait a minute. Why wasn't I informed sooner? My parents together own fifty percent of WWE's assets. That means that this investor now owns half of my family's company?!"

The Board of Directors looked at each other and exchanged looks. The one seated across Stephanie, however, did not take his eyes off her.

"I'm afraid so, Mrs. Levesque. But don't worry. Your father trusts this man completely."

"Well, when can I meet this investor?" Stephanie asked in an angry tone.

Suddenly, the door behind her opened. Everybody in the room except Stephanie stared at the man who had just entered, but Stephanie didn't bother to. She was about to meet her new co-owner anyway, but what she saw next was beyond shocking. Mouth open, she couldn't take her eyes off him as he took a seat across her.

"You don't have to look any further," Hulk Hogan said, "I'm right here. Right on time for my first meeting as co-owner of the WWE."

"Terry? My father sold his assets to you?" Stephanie said, "Unbelievable."

"What's not to believe, Steph? After all, me and your dad go way back."

"Well, you're relationship with him in recent years has been…antagonistic, to say the least."

"Forgive and forget darlin'. Your father is a smart businessman."

"Yeah, smart enough not to risk having his kids run his company." Stephanie said bitterly.

"Come now, don't be too harsh on your father. He means well, obviously. It's just that he…well…has lost some confidence. Especially with your brother and how he handled the situation a couple of months ago."

"Way to go, Shane," Stephanie said to herself, "Way to ruin it for both of us."

"But don't worry. I got a solution that's gonna revolutionize the company for sure." Hogan said as he tossed a dossier towards Stephanie.

She picked up the folder and read its contents. She smiled to herself. It wasn't surprising at all, considering that she was now doing business with Hulk Hogan. The man had an ego the size of Andre the Giant.

"Are you sure about this?" Stephanie asked, "Seems pretty risky to me."

"What's like without risks, eh? Look at your dad. He made a career out of taking risks."

"I guess you're right." Stephanie said in a defeated tone.

"That's my girl. Now why don't we make this official by shaking on it…partner?" Hogan said, extending his hand.

Stephanie hesitated for a moment before extending her own. The two shook hands and the meeting was just about done. Back in her car, Stephanie couldn't handle driving away just yet. She couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness that had suddenly overwhelmed her. She watched as Hogan himself approached his car with a huge on his face and drove off.

"What have you done, dad?" She whispered.


	3. Broken Man

July 25, 2021. The Great American Bash.

The Pepsi Arena in Albany, New York had been sold out for weeks. It was the second to the last match on the card that made the fans rise from their seats in amazement and excitement. It was a United States Championship bout, but it wasn't just any wrestling match. It was a Ladder Match. The competitors were Rick "The Prick" Rickard, the defending United States Champion against the underdog challenger, Jason Teague.

"Unbelievable…" Josh Matthews said as he called the match.

"A shooting star press from the top of the ladder, they don't get any crazier than Jason Teague."

"Absolutely not, Josh." MVP said, as he called the action next to Josh at the announce table.

"Jason Teague is one of those guys that will do anything, and I mean anything for the victory. I haven't seen anybody take so many risks since, well, me." MVP said smugly.

Back in the ring, Jason was having problems of his own. His jaw was nearly broken after a fammouser attempt by Rick Rickard earlier. Rickard was still recovering from the shooting star press, but so was Jason. He tried his best to ignore the pain in his abdomen and climbed the ladder. A step or two before reaching the top, he felt a strong grip in his ankle. Rickard was up too. Jason tried kicking at him, but Rickard was taking all the damage so far.

Backstage, Triple H was watching from a monitor.

Jason tried to reach for the belt as hard as he could but to no avail. Rickard was slowly climbing up. Instinctively, Jason gave him a hard-hitting elbow to the face. The first shot did absolutely nothing. The second shot was a lot better. By the third shot, Rickard was back on the ground. Without giving it much thought, Jason immediately leaped off the ladder and landed on Rickard's shoulders, then using Rickard's own momentum against him, he executed a hurracarana that sent Rickard flying over the top rope.

"Rick Rickard is down and out! The bastard is in front of us and he's freakin' down and out!" MVP said excitedly.

"And there goes Teague! He's climbing the ladder! He – he did it!" Josh Matthews said, "Jason Teague is your new United States Champion!"

At the back, Triple H stood smiling.

"Good work, soldier. Way to win one for the team."

A minute or two later, Jason came out smiling with the United States Championship in his shoulder. Triple H's smile grew broader. He couldn't have been more proud. He approached his protégé and for the first time ever, he gave him a warm fatherly hug. He patted Jason in the shoulder.

"Well done, Jason. You had just taken your first step towards a great career."

"Thank you. It's been a long time coming, but I finally did it." Jason said with excitement.

"Congratulations." Triple H said as he began to walk away.

"Hey, good luck tonight!" Jason yelled after him as he walked away.

Triple H chose not to reply. Instead, he glanced back at him and smiled before disappearing entirely. Jason strolled over to the catering table, hoping to treat himself to the occasional cheat meal after pay-per-view matches. He made himself a cup of coffee and began treating himself to its steamy goodness when a shadow fell across the room.

Jason turned and saw Stephanie McMahon-Levesque standing in the doorway, blocking the light.

"Jason," Stephanie said.

"Well, hello Mrs. Triple H," Jason said cheerfully, "Having fun running the family business?"

"The family business, as you call it, isn't exclusive to the family anymore." Stephanie answered.

"What do you mean?"

"Where's my husband?"

Triple H did his iconic turnbuckle pose to the delight of the crowd. His theme music was echoing throughout the arena. Triple H stood in the middle of the ring and awaited the champion. Pretty soon afterwards, the lights went out and a familiar entrance theme began to play. A murmur spread throughout the crowd. A murmur consisting of a single name.

Bane the Leviathan.

Triple H turned and saw his fate coming down the aisle, walking towards him. Bane was truly a sight to behold. Seven feet, four inches. Five hundred and forty pound of body weight. He was the wrestling giant to end all wrestling giants. The World Heavyweight Championship belt looked like a toy belt hung over his shoulder. Even more impressive than his size was the overall look of the champion. He had dark, short hair. His face was clean shaven and was absolutely gorgeous. Unlike Andre the Giant and the Big Show before him, his body was large but muscular. Every inch of him was pure muscle mass. Had he been born a foot shorter and two hundred fifty pounds lighter, he would've been considered a pretty boy.

Not that Triple H cared; all he knew was that he was carrying the richest prize in the business and he was fair game.

Triple H and The Leviathan stood face to face; or rather, face to chest. The Leviathan smiled and extended his hand. Reluctantly, Triple H extended his to shake it, but the moment their hands touched, he was simply overwhelmed by the strength the young champion commanded. Immediately releasing his grip, The Leviathan knocked him down with a single punch.

Triple H got up as fast as he had fallen and immediately took a shot at the champ's knee. Leviathan wobbled for a bit and managed to push Triple H back. A second later, Triple H dove towards the knee and managed to take Leviathan down with a single strike.

"That's your receipt," Triple H thought to himself.

"You took my title, now I'm gonna make you suffer."

He began working on the injured knee of The Leviathan, applying numerous holds. A sharpshooter was out of the question. The Leviathan was simply too huge to turn over. An ankle lock, however, might suffice.

Triple H was wrong.

The ankle lock was locked in for less than five seconds before The Leviathan was able to power out of it. Triple H attempted another one, but with similar results. He was barely able to keep The Leviathan on the ground as he attempted a Figure Four Leg Lock. Putting the champ in a Figure Four was no easy task; considering the weight of his legs alone, but Triple H was able to do it.

And in an instant, The Leviathan reversed it, forcing Triple H to release the hold or submit to his own submission hold.

The match went on for eight more minutes. Triple H was tired and bruised. He had been chokeslammed from the top turnbuckle and had been placed in the strongest bearhug he had ever been in. The Leviathan barely broke a sweat. All it took was a Cobra-Clutch Backbreaker to end the match. The Leviathan had retained in less than ten minutes.

"I…am broken." Triple H thought as he sat alone backstage.

"I gave him everything I had. He simply powered his way out of everything,"

As Triple H sat in silence, he could hear footsteps coming towards him. He looked up and immediately lowered his head at the sight of the General Manager of Smackdown.

"Triple H?" Randy Orton said, "We need to talk."

Triple H eyed the contract in Orton's hand, "About what? My contract doesn't end until tomorrow."

"The chairman of WWE hopes that you will sign a new contract now since it barely makes a difference whether you sign today or tomorrow."

Triple H grabbed the contract and frowned.

"This is a Legends Contract. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Looking out for your best interests, that's what I'm doing," Orton answered, "Judging by your performance tonight, I guess it's best to call it quits."

"I am not retiring."

"Nobody said you are. This contract will only limit your schedule and will allow us to honor you as the legend you truly are. All we ask is that you drop put of the title picture and move on. I mean, you're what? Pushing sixty? It's just not healthy."

Triple H had a good mind to knock Orton's teeth out right now. He was fifty-two, not sixty. But then again, a limited schedule would benefit him greatly. And Orton was right for one. His performance against The Leviathan was down right embarrassing. Without saying a word, he took the contract and signed it.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Triple H." Orton said with a smirk.


	4. The Original Leviathan

August 1, 2021. New York City.

Madison Square Garden had been officially booked as the venue for this year's SummerSlam. In addition to booking the arena, World Wrestling Entertainment was also quick to conduct a press conference. There was a buzz circulating among the press and the fans lucky enough to take part of it. SummerSlam is four weeks away. Why they would hold a press conference for anything other than a major pay-per-view, nobody knew. In the stand was veteran WWE interviewer, "Mean" Gene Okerlund.

"Hello, and welcome," Okerlund said, "Today, World Wrestling Entertainment has entered a new era. You don't have to take my word for it, watch this!"

Okerlund turned around and signaled to a large monitor at the back. A montage immediately began playing, hyping the arrival of a certain person whose features are left vague and mysterious. Meanwhile, a familiar tune can be heard in the background.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Okerlund announced off-screen, "I am pleased to announce the arrival of the new co-owner of World Wrestling Entertainment, The Immortal Hulk Hogan!"

The people present immediately broke into cheers. Hulk Hogan arrived and started playing to the crowd. Three seats away, Stephanie McMahon was definitely not pleased. Beside her sat Triple H, her husband. The standing ovation Hogan received went on for a little while longer before he could say something.

"Thank you. Thank you. You're all too kind," Hogan said.

"It truly amazes me to see that after nearly forty years of ups and downs; Hulkamania is still as strong as ever."

Several people up front tried to start a "one more match!" chant. Hogan merely chuckled.

"At sixty-eight years old? You bet brother!" He answered.

The crowd cheered and Hogan laughed some more.

"No, seriously. If it weren't for my new job description, I would gladly march down that aisle and kick some serious ass in that ring, brother! But my days as a wrestler are gone and I've come to accept it."

Hogan paused and drank some water before unveiling his toothy grin.

"Father Time has caught up with the Hulkster and now I am working behind the scenes to help promote the greatest wrestling organization in history, the WWE. Now, I suppose you have some questions for me."

A show of hands immediately caught Hogan's attention. He pointed at a small blonde reporter in the front row.

"Mr. Hogan," The reporter began, "I just want--"

"Please, call me Terry," Hogan interrupted.

The reporter began to giggle, as did a lot of other people. She quickly regained her composure and asked again.

"I just want to know the particular reason as to why the McMahons would willingly sell you their major assets in the company?"

"Vince McMahon is an old friend and he has fallen ill recently. I would presume that ol' Vinny Mac wanted a different direction for his company than the one his children were heading towards."

His answer created a buzz among the reporter. Another came up and began assaulting him with questions.

"Hulk Hogan, what can we expect from you as chairman? What changes can we expect from your product and what will you do to improve the company's reputation?"

"First of all, the sign on the marquee says 'wrestling' and that is what we will give. Second of all, you can expect numerous changes particularly in behavior. Vince McMahon and his children were content to let their wrestlers run amok. But they were never wrestlers themselves; they have no idea what goes on inside the locker room. I do."

The press became relentless, hounding him for questions. Hogan, on his part, seemed capable of not only giving them answers that they wanted to hear, but also left them baffled with some of his mysterious remarks. Stephanie McMahon, on the other hand, remained unimpressed. Triple H himself thought nothing of it until he felt a strong force bump him from behind. He turned and saw one of the biggest men he had ever seen.

"Paul Wight…" Triple H said.

"Hunter," Big Show said, nodding towards them, "Stephanie…"

"And in addition to taming the locker rooms," Hogan roared, like a politician, "We also revamped the WWE Legends program so that legends such as my good friend over here can have a bigger role in the company."

Hogan pointed to The Big Show, who had taken a seat next to Triple H and Stephanie.

"My good friend, Paul Wight, has agreed to take a more active role in the company by being the manager of the current World Heavyweight Champion, The Leviathan."

The Big Show stood to the applause of the people and hugged Hulk Hogan. Hogan stepped off the stand and let The Big Show have his moment.

"Thank you, Terry," Big Show said, "For this wonderful opportunity to take one of wrestling's most promising stars and mold him into a future legend. I promise I will do everything in my power to take Bane the Leviathan to the next level. That will be all."

The crowd cheered and Hulk Hogan once again took over.

Triple H and Stephanie exchanged glances and walked out. Neither of them spoke until they reached the parking lot. Jason and the limo driver were both smoking cigars when they signaled both of them to get inside.

"What's on your mind?" Jason asked.

"Take us back to the hotel." Triple H said to the driver.

"I'm guessing the press conference went badly."

"Hulk Hogan is gonna run it to the ground. He's not gonna make things better; he's gonna run the company in a dictatorship." Stephanie said.

"He thinks giving The Leviathan a manager is gonna make things easier, well he's dead wrong."

"So what do we do?" Jason asked.

"Simple. If Hulk Hogan wants some changes in the WWE, then we'll give him some changes. It'll be just like old times. We'll take them out one by one until only Hogan's left."

Triple H smiled at that thought. The first time since The Great American Bash.

* * *

Author's Note:

Hey, would you mind giving me some reviews? I wanna know what you think of the sequel. Thanks in advanced!

-Chris Orton


	5. StraightEdge no more?

The one thing Hulk Hogan promised was change. And for most people, change is a double-edged blade. It can either be a good thing or a bad thing. For the inhabitants of the WWE locker room, it was a bad thing. Ever since he became the co-owner of WWE, Hulk Hogan has been aggressively campaigning for a "brighter day", his own definition of wrestling paradise. In a way, Hogan's attempt at recreating WWE has been a double-edged blade in more ways then one.

In order to make a good impression on the media, the company has settled for a more family-friendly product and has been extremely strict with its employees, making sure that nothing planned ever gets out to the public until the right time. Superstars are suddenly acting more disciplined and professional in direct contrast to the controversial stars they have been portraying themselves as for years.

Critics have been quick to point out that the outrageous behavior and the controversial setting is what made professional wrestling successful in the first place. Bolder ones have dared to go as far as calling WWE sell outs, saying they have sold out their roots in exchange for acceptance within the mainstream community.

As expected, the Superstars themselves feel the same way.

What the media does not know, however, is that the new level of discipline exhibited by the WWE superstars was only made possible by force. Hulk Hogan was now running the WWE in a dictatorship. From day one, Hogan had hired his own agents to enforce these rules. Every WWE Superstar was monitored and observed by these agents. Every mistake they make was being reported and the repercussions were often severe.

The first victim was MVP. The ever-outspoken color commentator on Smackdown had gone on a rant on and had basically criticized every little bit of Hulk Hogan's new policies. Within three days of posting that blog, MVP was ambushed at his hotel room and hospitalized. The details were mostly left out when it was reported by WWE. Soon after, WWE began silencing many of its employees by any means necessary.

* * *

Chicago, Illinois. August 16, 2021.

Phil Brooks aka CM Punk was dead tired of his life. He had just returned from an independent show and he was sore all over. He had a gash on his forehead, which he got after being hit by a steel chair during the match. He rushed into the door, trying not to get wet from the rain. From the inside, the apartment building looked like a dump. It was so dilapidated that the roof was leaking in several places. The wall paper was coming off the walls and the stairs smelled like puke. CM Punk tried to be optimistic; he could've been homeless right now, were it not for his good friend Colt Cabana. Colt Cabana was still working as a road agent for WWE, a place CM Punk swore he would never return to. But then again, that was when his problems started.

Months before, CM Punk was the head trainer of a certain developmental territory owned by WWE. That was before Hulk Hogan became the co-owner of World Wrestling Entertainment. With all the changes that came along with the Hulkster, CM Punk eventually quit his job. At least working Indy shows is safer than being blackmailed and extorted by Hulk Hogan's agents. Or so he thought. Now he was struggling. Within a few months time, he had lost his house and this measly flat was the cheapest he could afford, and to think he only got it after considerable help from Colt Cabana.

CM Punk was in no hurry to get inside his room. It looked even worse than the rest of the building. The dishes were all piled up in the sink. The floor was filled with dirty clothes and half-eaten pizza. And even the doorknob was faulty. CM Punk stopped at his tracks. He was lit, barely able to stand up on his own feet without wobbling. Something was wrong. His door was open. He softly pushed it open and went inside. A large, coated man was sitting in the kitchen. Punk moved a little bit closer to see who it was.

"It's about time you came home, Phil."

"Triple H?" Punk said in disbelief.

"That's right. Welcome home, Punk. Welcome home."

CM Punk was confused. Confused and tipsy. He slowly pulled up a chair and sat by the table across Triple H. Everything was coming back to him. He eyed Triple H curiously and frowned. The bastard smiled at him.

"How the hell did you get in here? I could have you arrested for breaking and entering!"

"I have my ways," Triple H replied, "For one; you didn't lock the door—"

Triple H stopped himself after catching the smell of alcohol. Now it was his turn to look at CM Punk curiously.

"Have you been drinking?" Triple H asked.

"So what if I have? Like anybody really gives a damn…" CM Punk answered bitterly, "Having fun with your little comeback? Come to poke fun at those who don't have your luck?"

"Phil, I'm here as a friend. I just want to help."

"Screw that! I don't need your help. I've been sitting on my ass for months while you and Hulk Hogan have been having the time of your miserable little lives. Go back to your corporate tower in Stamford and stay there!"

"See now, that's what I want to talk to you about." Triple H said with a smile, "Let's discuss Hulk Hogan…and your new drinking habit."

"Aw, Goddamnit, Hunter, what's there to talk about? All you need to know is that once I'm done with that beer sitting on the fridge, I got a hot date."

"A date?"

"Yeah, with Mary Jane." Punk said with a devious smile on his face.

"A little word of advice, Phil. Stick to your mantra. Beer and drugs will get you nowhere, so now on to business."

"What?! You think you can barge in here and tell me how to live my life? And what's this business all about? As you can see, I'm tired and I want to get some sleep."

"Fine, I'll go straight to the point then. Hulk Hogan is messing with everybody, so me and some of the boys are planning to stir some trouble. You in?"

CM Punk couldn't believe what he had just heard. Maybe Triple H was right. He needs to lay off the marijuana for a while.

"Hello? Punk, I need an answer."

"Are you insane?" CM Punk said, getting up, "And I thought I was high. No, no. I'm sorry but I can't. You might be crazy enough to go up against Hogan, but I'm not."

"You forget that he's only co-owner. He doesn't own everything. Stephanie still owns half the company. We can make this work, trust me."

CM Punk started laughing. He couldn't help himself. Not that there was anything funny, because there certainly wasn't. He dragged himself towards the bathroom and opened his medicine cabinet. The moment he opened it, a least a dozen different types of drugs came falling off. He continued to laugh as he tried to open a container. He was about to swallow a fistful when Triple H entered the bathroom.

"Before you even think about taking those, look at the person staring back at you in the mirror and decide whether or not he deserves a second chance. If he does, then take my hand. Join me."

CM Punk suddenly stopped laughing. The person staring back at him in the mirror was a wreck. The bloodshot eyes and the unkempt hair. He was the most defeated person he had ever seen. He dropped the pills in an instant and turned to Triple H.

"You're right," Punk said softly, "A second chance…that's all I need."

He turned back to the mirror and began mumbling incoherently to himself. Triple H turned around he started towards the door. Punk wasn't ready. Not yet anyway. He was halfway down the stairs when CM Punk called after him.

"I'll do it! Count me in!" CM Punk said.

Triple H smiled. Another soldier had been rallied to his cause.


	6. The first shot

Cameron, North Carolina. August 16, 2021.

It was eleven 'O clock in the evening. The OMEGA promotion had just finished yet another successful show. The local fans will be talking about that night for years. Despite the obvious lack of star power, the local wrestlers amazed and dazzled the crowd with their extreme and high flying antics. But now the show was over and the only ones left in the ring were some of the wrestlers and of course, the owners of the promotion, Matt and Jeff Hardy.

"Good work you guys," Matt called out to wrestlers, "Keep up the good work."

"Another night, another dollar," Jeff said, scribbling on his little notebook.

"How much did we earn tonight Jeff?" Matt asked.

"About two hundred dollars more than last week's show." Jeff answered. He got out of the ring and walked after the wrestlers.

Matt smiled and stayed in the ring just a little bit longer. Tonight was a very good show; it drew well and the crowd was on its feet most of the time. Sure, a louder and rowdier crowd meant that there was a bigger mess to clean up and the building smelled worse than it usually did. Matt didn't mind. He actually liked the smell. It reminded him of the smelly, old, broken-down gymnasiums that he and Jeff used to wrestle at when they were just starting out. The one thing that bothered him were the rats, though. The filthy things were almost bigger than cats and the whole building was infested with them. He could hear a couple at that very moment, running through the chairs. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until he heard one of the trash bins fell over.

That seemed odd. Some of the rats might've been huge but they could never knock down a trash bin. He turned around and saw a man standing by the door. He was a new face; Matt had never seen him before. Whoever he was, Matt felt somewhat uncomfortable in his presence.

"Sorry about that," The man said, "I'm a little off today. Kinda clumsy, I mean."

"Sir, the show is over, come back next week," Matt said before turning and leaving the ring, thinking that was the end of it.

"I'm not here for your show," The man said, getting closer. Matt took a closer look at him. He was well built, more than that actually. This man was ripped. As big as any of the Indy wrestlers he had hired. He was also wearing a glittering gold belt around his waist, a belt bearing the unmistakable logo of the WWE.

"Hey." Matt frowned. "What is this?"

"Matt Hardy? That's you right?"

"Yeah, that's me. And who might you be?"

"My name's Jason. Jason Teague. Triple H sent me to talk to you."

Matt stopped dead in his tracks. Triple H? What the hell did he want?

"Let's talk. Go get your brother. He needs to hear this too."

They spent the next half hour sitting in the ring talking. Matt and Jeff couldn't believe what they were hearing from this man. Apparently, Stephanie McMahon was secretly planning to rebel against her new business partner, Hulk Hogan, and her husband was gonna lead a stable – although Matt thought an army was the more accurate description – against Hogan which would probably result in complete and total anarchy. Matt just sat there listening whilst Jeff kept on pacing around the ring.

"So let me get this straight…Triple H wants our help in overthrowing Hulk Hogan?" Jeff said in total disbelief, "Could you please explain to me as to why we have to be involved?"

"Look, man, no offense but we don't have a problem against what Hulk Hogan is doing. Why don't you recruit some of the younger talent in WWE? They'll be a lot more helpful than us." Matt suggested.

"Triple H wants allies he can trust. And if that means forcing veterans such as yourselves out of retirement, then that's what we'll do." Jason answered. "So are you guys in?"

Matt and Jeff exchanged glances. They were perfectly happy running their own promotion in their hometown, but then again, they wouldn't mind lending a helping hand and going against a corrupt system. Besides, neither of them was technically retired…

"Alright, we're in." Matt answered.

"But you guys better know what you're doing." Jeff said.

"Oh don't worry about a thing." Jason said with a smile on his face. "The first shot is being fired as we speak."

* * *

Tampa, Florida. The Florida Championship Wrestling training center.

It was nearly midnight and Chavo Guerrero was still working. He was all alone in the building. Well, not really. The janitors were still cleaning up but they'll be gone within minutes. Chavo had it made in FCW. The trainees were real respectful and booking matches for the show was easier than he thought. He was even given his own little office. Sure, he took a pay cut when he retired from active wrestling but the time he spent away from the ring would benefit him in the long run, as he often told himself when things got bad. He took a sip of coffee and turned off the computer. His work was done and tomorrow, as promised, he would give himself the day off. He took another sip when he heard the door creak.

"Hello?" Chavo put down his mug. "Anybody there?"

There was no response. Still, just to make sure, he got up from his desk and checked the hallway. It was empty and dark; the janitors had just left. He was alone again. Chavo chuckled and went back inside. It was just his imagination playing tricks on him. He sat back in his chair and took another sip when he heard a large glass-breaking sound in the hallway. Ran towards the corridor and saw that the nearby window had been shattered. He looked outside but didn't see anybody in the parking lot. Chavo ran back into his office and immediately took out the baseball bat he had hidden in his closet. He ran back into the corridor when he noticed that his computer was back on.

Chavo slowly approached his desk. The small hairs at the back of his neck were now standing. His sweat slowly dripped down his face. There was a message waiting for him when he checked his computer out.

"Hello, Chavo." Chavo began to read the message out loud. "You've done well these past couple of months. We see that you've been busy training a new generation of wrestlers, or rather, agents…what the hell do they mean?"

Chavo feverishly read the contents. His mind was racing. This was a joke. A sick, cruel, tasteless joke. It had to be. But he didn't care. Someone else besides him was in the building. Not taking his eyes off his computer, he reached out for the baseball bat only to find it missing. Not a second later, someone had pulled the plug on his computer. Chavo made a run for the door but he felt the impact of the baseball bat bounce off the back of his head.

Chavo turned and saw two men. Small but definitely strong. That baseball bat had some impact to it. The two men slowly stalked Chavo as he tried to crawl away. He didn't even bother to ask them questions. He got up as fast as he could and ran for it until the saw that the exit was being blocked by three more people. They were bigger and more muscular. Probably WWE Superstars. Probably the ones who sent him the threatening e-mail.

"Holy shit…" Chavo said to himself.

He turned and saw his assailants walking ever so slowly towards him.

"Who are you people?! And what the hell do you want from me?" Chavo screamed.

"Not you." One of them answered.

"Your boss." Another one said.

Before he could even think about defending himself, he was knocked down from behind. It became a five on one assault. The last thing Chavo could remember before passing out was the face of one of his assailants. That face. He knew that face. Kyle Robins, one of his former students.

Chavo Guerrero was found the next morning, passed out and tied to a chair. The Florida Championship Wrestling training center was left mostly undamaged with the obvious exception of the broken window and Guerrero's office which had been vandalized with green spray paint. Most shocking of all, was that the intruders also defaced a large portrait of Hulk Hogan which was displayed in the hallway along with the portraits of other WWE Legends and Hall of Famers. Curious enough, it also bore the signature of one of the legends whose portrait was hung just across the room.

It was none other than Triple H's signature.


	7. Burning Memories

Hulk Hogan looked himself over in the bathroom mirror and frowned. He was lucky to be in one piece. There was another attack, this time on him. The bruise on the left side of his face was very noticeable, even with makeup applied. That makeup person backstage didn't know a damn thing. Hogan made a mental note to fire her next thing tomorrow morning. Still, she was a friend of Stephanie McMahon, his co-owner, and she was sure to have her rehired as soon as possible.

Hogan frowned further at the thought of Stephanie McMahon. Where did she fit into all of these surprise attacks, he thought. The assailants were all WWE superstars. That part had been proven. But yet, if a few WWE superstars had decided to go rogue, they would've been caught and punished by now. Yet they remain elusive and have evaded capture since the attack on Chavo Guerrero and the FCW facility two weeks ago. These attackers must've had help. Help from someone smarter and experienced. Someone deviant and bold enough to even try. Someone like Stephanie McMahon-Levesque.

Hogan stepped back into his office and, as if on cue, Big Show came in. He looked stressed as well.

"Paul." Hogan said.

"What happened? What did they do to you Terry?" Big Show asked, eyeing Hogan's face.

Hogan told Big Show to take a seat and explained everything. Earlier in the morning Hulk Hogan's driver had arrived late. He was very upset at that and gave his driver one hell of a yelling session. The traffic was extremely hectic, so they tried going a different route. He was just enjoying a nice cup of coffee when another bumped into the rear of the limo, causing him to spill it on himself. He looked out the window and saw two cars catching up to them. He yelled at his driver to lose them but his driver began ignoring him. The two cars sped up beside him and took turns ramming the limo. After a long chase, the driver suddenly stepped on the breaks causing Hogan to bump his head on the wall, thus causing his bruise. He stepped out to check on the driver, but the driver's seat was empty.

Big Show sat in his seat fuming as Hogan wrapped up his story. For a while nobody spoke.

"We can't let these hooligans get away with this." Big Show said.

"Tell me about it. They've gotten to Chavo and they've vandalized both the FCW facilities and the Hall of Fame building. Whoever they are, they've got this thing planned out."

"You got a plan to weed out the mastermind?" Big Show asked, leaning in.

Hogan clasped his hands together and smiled. He was gonna mention his earlier suspicions about Stephanie McMahon when an e-mail had just popped into his PC. Curious, Hogan opened it and saw that it was actually a sent video. They both leaned in and watched the video play. It showed a dark warehouse. In the background they could see several WWE memorabilia's and several shadowy figures could be seen in the back.

"Oh my God…" Big Show said in disbelief.

In the video, a single light was shone. Triple H quickly appeared. Both their jaws dropped. They didn't have to look any further as to who was the mastermind behind all of the attacks.

"Gentlemen." Triple H smiled. "I trust you're seated comfortably."

"We are here at the Stamford, Connecticut headquarters warehouse where you keep all the irreplaceable stuff that has been used over the years." Triple H walked around, making references to all the props and materials.

"I guess you want to know why we're here. I guess that's fair, seeing as how badly we've been treating you lately."

"It's him! I should've known!" Hogan said softly.

Triple H was now holding an old sledgehammer in his hands. It looked dusty and dirty, but Triple H looked very solemn as he studied it carefully.

"My first sledgehammer...It even says so right here." Triple H said, showing the markings at the sledgehammer's handle. "Y'know, I give this to Shane after I first used it. He always said he'll keep it safe. He wasn't kidding."

Triple H placed the hammer back into the shelf and continued to survey the area. The shelves were full of old props from WWE programming: the barber chairs whenever they had hair vs. hair matches, Undertaker's symbol, countless tables, ladders, chairs and even the King of Kings throne Triple H sat on back in WrestleMania 22. Hulk Hogan felt an instinctual clench in his gut; something bad was going to happen. He quickly alerted his security.

"There are intruders in the Props warehouse. Apprehend them and stop them before they do anything!" Hogan yelled through his phone.

Meanwhile, back in the video, Triple H's accomplices had just finished their work. Upon seeing it, Hogan dropped his phone on the ground and unknowingly stepped on it as he walked slowly back to his desk. His worst fears were coming true: they were planting explosives. Triple H himself was busy planting the last charge. The entire warehouse was set to blow.

"Well, I guess I'm done reminiscing. I hope the boys are too." Triple H pointed to his men.

Hogan saw that they were not current WWE superstars. In fact, they were not employed by the company at all. The Hardys were there, and so was CM Punk, who no longer had that 'hung over' look he had been sporting for a long time. The last man was Rob Van Dam. They all stood behind Triple H as he began crotch-chopping the camera.

"Hello? You still there?" Triple H asked, "You know what boys, if I know Terry Bollea, and I do, he'll probably have security come after us right now."

"Typical." CM Punk said in a disgusted tone.

"What do you guys think?" Triple H said to the Hardys.

"Wow! Vickie Guerrero's wheelchair!" Jeff said excitedly, "Man, I could take this apart and use the scrap metal for my sculpture. I can't believe they kept this."

"Let's just blow it up and get this over with." Matt said, shaking his head.

Triple H laughed. "See you later, Hulkster. There will be only one thing we'll salvage: our get away vehicle."

Triple H unveiled a huge monster truck that, apparently, used to belong to Stone Cold Steve Austin. He did one last crotch-chop before turning off the camera. They all boarded the truck and drove it at full speed. They were literally crashing towards the wall. Outside, the security guards were running as fast as they could towards the building when the monster truck crashed through the door and drove past all of them. Confused, they stared as the truck ran through the gate and tore it down. Before any of them could get inside the building, it exploded in a fiery blaze, knocking all the security guards present of their feet and blasted them several feet into the air.

Hulk Hogan and The Big Show saw the explosion from Hogan's office. A shocked and angry Hogan began tossing things into the ground and basically thrashed his office in a fit of rage. Within hours, news of the attack on WWE HQ was now circulating throughout the internet. In her home in Greenwich, Connecticut, Stephanie was just opening her mail when she received footage of the whole thing from her husband. She hadn't laughed that hard in months.

That night, Triple H and his troops partied non-stop. They deserved it. If they didn't have Hogan's attention before, they definitely did now. It was only the beginning. As they partied, Triple H looked upon them paternally. Old School and the new generation, fighting together under the same banner. Things were looking up.

The destruction of irreplaceable memorabilia, not to mention the damage done to the property cost the WWE millions. The supporters of Hulk Hogan slowly began to question his leadership, since the event took place at his watch. Outraged, embarrassed and desperate, Hulk Hogan commissioned the creation of his own "army" not long after the incident. At the helm, was the World Heavyweight Champion The Leviathan and his manager, The Big Show. As announced through , the main event of SummerSlam would be a tag team match.

It would be Triple H and his protégé, Jason Teague against The Leviathan and a mystery partner, one who knows Triple H very well…


	8. Marching Orders

A jet-black limousine pulled up at the driveway of the luxurious Payton Hotel. The driver got out of the limo and strolled all the way to the back and opened the door for his employer. John Cena got out of the limo and looked up into the heavens. A single drop of rain fell on his head and within seconds, it began to rain furiously.

"What a way to welcome me." Cena thought. "It rained on the day I was born too."

The bellhops opened the door for John Cena as he entered the lobby. At the corner of his eye, he could see a man waving his hand at his direction. He could see John "Bradshaw" Layfield sitting on the nearby couch. Bradshaw blew a puff of smoke from his cigar as he grinned at Cena. The sign behind him clearly stated 'No Smoking in the lobby'. But obviously, the bell boys were too intimidated to do anything about it. More people were leaving the lobby, hoping to get away from the cigar-smoking Texan. People shot them dirty looks as they passed by.

"Bradshaw." Cena said coldly.

"John Cena," Bradshaw replied, "Sit down. You're just in time."

"Did they tell you what's up?" Cena asked as he took his seat next to him.

"Not a clue. You heard about the attack on WWE HQ, right?"

"Yeah. I heard Triple H and his boys were behind it. That's what's being reported all over the internet anyway."

"Well those no good dirt sheets got something right for once. It ain't a rumor, it's a fact. And my gut tells me we're here to help clean up this shit."

John Cena frowned. Bradshaw stared into the opposite direction and continued to smoke. Outside, the rain intensified. The silhouette of a woman could be seen walking up to the door through the glass. She was very familiar. The woman entered the room and looked around. She eyed Cena and Bradshaw and made her way towards them. Bradshaw, on his part, stopped smoking and grinned.

"What a surprise! To what do we owe this pleasure?" Bradshaw said laughing. The woman's smile faded as Bradshaw stood up to shake her hand.

"I'm here on business. Just like you, JBL." Mickie James said.

"Y'know, I am loving this. It's just like one big reunion…in more ways than one, eh?" Bradshaw said. Cena ignored him.

Mickie took a seat next to him and held his hand.

"Hey John. How've you been?" Mickie asked.

Cena remained silent for a while. After a few moments he stared back into her eyes. "I'm fine. Just fine. Why?"

"Nothing. You seem distracted."

"Oh…well I've had a lot on my mind lately."

"You're not still mad at me, are you?"

Cena didn't respond. Instead he turned away and got up. Bradshaw patted him on the back and left the lobby, leaving them all alone.

"Why wasn't I allowed to see my daughter? You knew that promotional tour I did in London was the only time I could see her. So why didn't you?" Cena said in a somewhat hurt tone.

"John, I told you, I didn't want her to get exposed to the public too much. You know how shy she is. She needs her privacy, and you couldn't give her that. You have to be everywhere at once, with your movies and wrestling. She needs to be protected."

"She needs her father." Cena said, "I haven't seen her personally since last year's WrestleMania. You may have custody of her, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm her dad."

They had a long and awkward silence until Bradshaw came back inside.

"Listen, I hate to spoil this family moment, but our fourth business partner has arrived." Bradshaw said.

At that moment, The Big Show entered the hotel. He looked haggard, as if he hasn't shaved in weeks and as if he hadn't slept in a long time. He wasn't alone, as three other men in suits followed him. He didn't say a word, but gestured them to follow him. They followed The Big Show into his hotel suite where a masseur was waiting for him.

"Hit the bricks, sweetheart. You know my rules; business first, pleasure later." Big Show said to the masseur.

The three of them sat down and waited as Big Show poured himself a drink.

"So let's talk business, shall we." Big Show said, "You all know what happened. There was an attack on Titan Towers in Connecticut. A rebellion has just begun."

"So what can we do?" John Cena asked.

"I'm glad you asked. We're gonna put together a special team, and it's gonna be spearheaded by you three!"

Cena, Mickie and Bradshaw exchanged glances at each other.

"You're joking right? All three of us?" Mickie said.

"You all have you're uses. Mickie, you run a wrestling school and an Indy promotion. As of today, that promotion is now a developmental territory for the WWE, and you will supply us with your best students immediately after graduation, is that understood?"

Mickie didn't reply. She bowed her head and nodded instead.

"As for you, JBL, you will use your resources and connections to back us up. We don't want any accidents so you'll be our insurance policy."

Big Show turned to face Cena. A huge smile appeared on Big Show's face.

"And you, Cena, are gonna be the mystery partner at SummerSlam. You'll be teaming up with The Leviathan and you'll be taking on Triple H and Jason Teague. Not only that, you'll be our hitman. Whoever we tell you to take out, you take out. Even if I tell you to take down your ex-wife over there, or that fat Texan sitting next to you, point is, you will obey."

Cena felt a surge of rage as he listened to Big Show's orders. He tried his best to keep it cool. Both Bradshaw and Mickie were staring at him now.

"Of Course. Whatever you say." Cena said softly.

The apprehension on Big Show's face disappeared and the smile returned.

"Excellent. We may not be able to fire Triple H because he's protected by his wife, but he can still do the next best thing…destroy him."

* * *

Big Show's words kept ringing in his ear. It's been an hour, and not even all the shots he's had in the bar made him forget this night. Bradshaw got over it pretty quickly and was now busy starting a fight with another pair of drunks. Mickie sat next to him but didn't drink.

"Another one!" Cena exclaimed as he downed another drink.

"John, don't you think you've had enough?" Mickie said.

"I'll have enough when I'm dead." Cena shot back.

Cena reached out to his drink, but he couldn't bring himself to pick it up.

"We can't go on like this." Cena said in a voice that sounded devastated.

"What do you mean?" Mickie asked.

"Look at us—wasting away in some bar like a bunch of has-beens. Skulking around the same places where we used to strut during our glory days…all the while letting monsters rule the wrestling world. What have I become?"

"You've become exactly what I always knew you'd be, John. Pliant. Obedient. Servants, each of us, to the will of our betters. But now we've screwed up." Mickie said.

"They've crossed the line, both of them, Hogan and Hunter. Hogan thinks he can just give us marching orders and then set us loose on his enemies. And Hunter…Goddamn him…he always took it too far."

"There's nothing we can do. Hogan's the boss now, and since Stephanie's no ally of our's either, we've got no other choice."

Cena wiped the beer from his mouth and got up. He heads for the door, not caring that he's too drunk to even walk properly. Mickie says something to him, but he can't hear anything.

"Hunter…" Cena said to himself, "You and me, we're gonna have us a talk."


	9. PreSummerSlam blues

John Cena spent the weekend searching. With Hogan's permission, he was allowed to question – interrogate his fellow WWE superstars. The roster, he found out, was already divided and hidden. One could no longer tell who was on whose side, either Hogan's or Triple H and Stephanie's. It took him a while, but he did it. After a rather rough interrogation session with a particular superstar, he was able to confirm that Triple H would be meeting with his "team" on Monday Night RAW, live from Anaheim, California. It was gonna be the last RAW before SummerSlam, and Cena was gonna make the most of it.

He arrived about thirty minutes before the show would go on the air. They were already having dark matches in the arena. Cena rushed through the backstage corridors, cutting through a sea of personnel along the way. He stopped at the boiler room entrance and hesitated. According to his source, Triple H should be going over some plans with his men at this very moment. He pressed his ear against the wall. The room, he could tell was completely silent. He opened it slightly and caught a dim light coming from the inside. He slowly opened the door and got inside, moving stealthily. He roamed the room and saw that it was empty.

"Hustle." A voice said.

"Loyalty." Said another one.

"Respect." A third voice was heard.

Cena looked around. His source was spot-on. But as he glanced around, the anxiety he was feeling began to build up. There were noises, mumblings to be exact. They were hidden in the darkness, just waiting for him. He couldn't make out what they were talking about, but one thing's for sure; he had walked into a trap.

"That's a nice catchphrase, John. The money you earn off the merchandise must be pretty sweet, am I right?" A familiar voice said.

"You greenhorns just sit back and relax. The old farts will handle this for now." Another voice said.

"You're as subtle as ever, John. Nobody'd ever know you were coming."

"Hunter…where are you?! Come on out!" Cena yelled around. There was no response. The voices seemed to change places. They were coming from all directions. Without warning, the light bulb hanging over his head broke into pieces, effectively rendering the room in total darkness.

"What's the matter, John? Afraid of the dark?"

"Hunter – It doesn't have to be like this between us." Cena began to speak.

Before he could utter another word, he felt the impact of a foreign object across his the back of his head. When he came to his senses, all the lights in the room were now turned on. The entire room was like a scene out of a movie. The boiler room itself was filthy and smelly. More than a dozen people circled around him. Many of them he had known personally, but the look on their faces gave him no comfort. Instead, they inspired an emotion he had not felt in a long, long time: fear.

"Sure it does. I've got a wrestling company to set free…and you're in my way." Triple H's booming voice said.

"Cena, meet boot!"

Perplexed by the statement, Cena got up and turned only to get hit by a kick to the face with enough impact to break his jaw. He looked up and saw Rob Van Dam's smiling face. RVD's smile, however, disappeared as he delivered another kick to Cena's head. His head fell to the floor with great impact. The superstars present began to cheer. A few feet away, he could see some of them barricading the door. There was no way in, and no way out.

"See, John, I'm not kidding." Triple H said, as he approached the fallen Cena. "You want a joke? You want a big, fat belly laugh? Here's one."

A younger looking superstar fought his way through the crowd. Cena could recognize him, although he couldn't remember his name. All he knew was that this was the same kid who graduated from FCW a year ago. He was there during his try-out match. The kid was impressive. Now, he was working for Triple H.

"John Cena, meet John McCurdy." Triple H said.

"Hi! I'm your biggest fan!" McCurdy said to Cena as he decked him with a straight right hand. "Or should I say I used to be."

John McCurdy was sporting a throwback, some shorts and a Reeboks. This one was an old-school fan. McCurdy continued his assault on Cena, as the former struggled to get back up. The cheers from the on-lookers were getting louder and louder.

"You've hit a new low, Hunter." Cena said, as he got up and punched the youngster back into the crowd.

"You're a lot slower than I remember." CM Punk said, leaping from the high platform he was previously perched from and landing next to Cena.

Cena readied his stance but Punk just smiled at him. The crowd was now chanting "Fight! Fight! Fight!" Instead, Punk motioned Cena to look behind him, but Cena didn't listen. Within a second, he felt two simultaneous kendo stick shots to his back. The small crowd's chant now changed from "Fight!" to "Hardys!" Just as the crowd said, The Hardys were indeed standing behind him. Each with a kendo stick in hand. Jeff had a sick smile on his face whilst his older brother Matt remained expressionless.

"You never did learn to think strategically, did you?" Triple H said in mockingly, "I did. Pardon me while I let loose the legendary Hardy Boyz on you."

With than being said, there was no holding back their fury. Cena felt every blow to his body, he opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. He reached out his hand, desperate for help, but he received no such courtesy from anyone in the room. After a while, Cena was on the verge of fainting. The cheers and the blows suddenly stopped. Cena's face, literally covered in blood, sweat and tears, was a mess. The happy expression on Triple H's face faded and was replaced with one of seriousness.

"That's enough. He's ready."

"H-Hunter - - I just want to talk…"

Nearly lifeless, he swallowed what remained of his pride and crawled towards Triple H. Triple H gently helped him up, but only to strike him in the gut. Cena let out a loud groan. He could taste his own blood inside his mouth. Triple H wasn't done. He unleashed a barrage of punches, each blow aimed at specific, already-injured body parts. When all was said and done, Cena had finally lost consciousness. Triple H threw his limp body into the ground.

"I'm done talking. Now get this piece of shit out of my sight."

The on-lookers knew better than to hesitate so they picked up Cena's carcass and tossed him on top of a nearby table. With a single gesture, the superstars removed the barricade and one by one, left the boiler room. The show had just started and most of them had matches to prepare for. The only ones left in the room were Triple H, Jason and the unconscious Cena.

"Damn it, Hunter! That was downright brutal!" Jason exclaimed, "Last I remember, attempted murder was not part of the job description."

"Cena's strong. He'll live." Triple H answered as he downed a few pills.

"And I though you were off that? Your doctor told you to quit it!"

"I still can't sleep at night, goddamn it!" Triple H shot back, "The nightmares…the hallucinations, they come for me always…and why do you give a damn!?"

"Hunter, I - - calm down. It's the pills talking, not you…"

"Jason, remember why we're doing this! For freedom! This is my show! My war! We follow my strategy! And if I say he have to take it S. like him, then that's what we'll do!"

Triple H left the room in a rush.

Jason approached Cena apprehensively. He felt sick to his stomach and decided to leave as well.

"Poor bastard," Jason said to himself, "See you at SummerSlam, Cena."


	10. Together, you're unstoppable

New York City. Madison Square Garden. SummerSlam.

Hulk Hogan's likeness and voice all over the WWE product was like a droning of insects, and Triple H knew exactly what to do about insects – ignore them or step on them. But in this case, he couldn't afford to ignore the drone. Hulk Hogan was, after all, the target. But it wasn't just him anymore. The company had been split into two: Hogan's men and Stephanie's men. To take out one man, that would be too easy. Far too easy. But taking down half the company? That would require careful planning and swift execution.

Triple H quickened his pace. He and Stephanie needed to go over some things before tonight's main event. He could hear the noise from the arena. SummerSlam was officially underway and the first match on the card was for the United States Championship. Jason's championship. Of course, Jason was already out there in the fight of his life, so he didn't need to worry about him until later. As he reached for the door, the sounds of two distinct voices made him hesitate. Hulk Hogan was inside Stephanie's office. Triple H pressed his ear against the door and listened in.

"How dare you! You're supposed to be my partner in this!" He could he hear Hogan yell.

"Now I know. You're behind all this! Maybe I can't prove it now, but what happened to Cena was all you're doing! And if you have any of you're father's business sense, you'd resign before things get worse!"

There was a moment of silence. Triple H heard footsteps and backed away from the door. Hogan stormed out of the office furiously. Inside, Stephanie was observing the Pay-Per-View through the monitor. He quietly shut the door as he entered and sat beside her.

"Did you hear everything?" Stephanie asked without turning to face him.

"Just the last part. I think we're getting to him." Triple H replied.

"Well I certainly hope so. It won't be long before he gets even with us." With that remark, Stephanie leaned forward, frowning.

"Jason doesn't look too good out there."

"He'll be fine. Jason's a tough kid. He won't let us down."

"I think he just did." Stephanie said, covering her mouth with her hands.

Jason was taking an ass-kicking out there. His opponent had just taken advantage of a momentary distraction from the outside and went for an Oklahoma pin. After the count of three, the match was over. Jason Teague had just lost the coveted United States Championship. The disappointment and anger in his eyes could be anymore clear as he sat in the middle of the ring, dejected. Triple H didn't know what to say. He too was at a loss for words. He immediately left Stephanie's office and waited at the Gorilla Position for Jason to make his way backstage. When he did, Jason every bit like the spent force he truly was.

"What happened out there?" Triple H asked.

Jason didn't answer. He lowered his head and grunted. He turned to walk away but Triple H put his hand on his shoulder and held him back.

"What happened?" Triple H repeated.

"I lost. I lost, okay?" Jason said, voice trembling.

"Look, that doesn't matter right now. You have a rematch clause in your contract; you can get it back any time. But right now, I want your focus on the main event. It's you and me, against Cena and The Leviathan. Get your head in the game, Jason. We still have a mission to accomplish."

Jason didn't reply. In fact, he looked as if he was about to cry. Triple H didn't see the need to continue. He turned and left for the dressing room. The main event was about an hour and a half away. He retreated to his personal dressing room and observed the Pay-Per-View in silence. Somewhere along the line, he fell asleep. In his sleep, he had some very peculiar nightmares: Jason and the rest of the WWE had imploded. The entire wrestling community had crumbled and he was inside an empty arena, forced to repeatedly live out the one moment in his life that had nearly cost him everything. He watched over and over as Randy Orton leaped into the air, unto his prone body, as the darkness consumed them all.

Triple H woke up in an instant. He was sweating from head to toe. It was nearly time for the main event and someone was knocking on his door. It was Jason, who seemed to be in better spirits than before.

"Hunter, it's time. Are you alright? You look ill." Jason said with a concerned look.

Triple H gave him a tight smile. "Thank you for your concern, but I'll be fine. Let's go out there and give those bastards the fight of their lives."

Jason remained silent and nodded. The two made their way towards the Gorilla Position where they waited until Triple H's entrance music played. Once it started, they pulled back the curtains and soaked in the audience's applause. The entire arena was supporting them all the way, and he knew the boys in the back were too. They were the working class heroes out to take out an evil corporation, and the fans just ate it up. As soon as they reached the ring, The Leviathan came out followed by John Cena. Cena looked banged up, but tried his best not to show it.

"I'll start first. Stay in the corner and wait for my signal." Triple H whispered to Jason as the bell rang and the match went underway.

John Cena threw his shirt to the crowd and wasted no time in charging towards him. The force of Cena's tackle sent him staggering back to the corner. He bounced back with some lefts and rights, taking the fight back to the middle of the ring. Cena wobbled as he felt Triple H's fists connect. The two grabbed each other simultaneously went for a hip toss. Triple H was able to counter this and land one of his own, however. Cena got back up on his feet and tagged in the world's heavyweight champion, The Leviathan. The Leviathan was quick to level him with a strong clothesline. Jason scaled the turnbuckle and performed a picture-perfect crossbody, only to be caught in mid-air and slammed right into Triple H's prone body.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" The Leviathan taunted.

He picked up both men and amazingly, chokeslammed them both on the spot. The crowd was getting hot. Jason crawled away and back to the corner. The Leviathan grabbed Triple H by the hair and knocked him back down with a strong right hand. Putting Triple H in a headlock, he dragged him all the way back into their corner where John Cena made the tag. Now the victim of a vicious double team, Triple H did his best to fight back. Both Cena and The Leviathan whipped him across the ring, and as he bounced off the ropes, they caught him with a double hip toss.

"C'mon, move it!" Jason yelled, extending his hand as far as he could.

Triple H attempted to crawl his way back, but John Cena had other plans. He locked in the STF-U and had it cinched in tight. The crowd was on their feet. They suddenly broke into chants of "Triple H!" and "D-X!" as Triple H did his best to crawl towards Jason. The distance between them seemed like miles to him, but his efforts were not in vain; a hot tag was made to Jason who was now wrestling like a man possessed, or rather, a man who had just lost his coveted United States Championship. He was able to knock Cena down with a straight right hand to the jaw. The Leviathan ran towards them to make the save, but Jason was unrelenting and unforgiving. Jason performed what Triple H thought, quite possibly, as the most impressive enzuigiri kick he had ever seen; managing to connect even though The Leviathan was about a foot and a half taller.

The Leviathan went down with a sickening thud. The on-looking crowd suddenly became silent. Only John Cena and Jason Teague were left standing, as a fierce stare down took place. Then they exchanged blows, wildly throwing lefts and rights. The crowd's silence was now broken as the cheers rained upon them. It was then that Triple H's plan began to fall apart. His vision was suddenly in black and white; and the world around him was now in slow motion. Several superstars ran down the ramp, intent in causing trouble. The referee turned his attention to the interfering superstars, as more of them arrived. CM Punk, The Hardys and Rob Van Dam made their way out as well, together with the superstars they had recruited. It became an all out war.

"Watch out!" Triple H heard Jason scream.

He turned sharply back to the action inside the ring when suddenly; his face felt the sheer power and force of The Leviathan's boot. Triple H fell face first into the thinly-covered concrete. Back in the ring, Cena had been hiding brass knuckles in his shorts from the very beginning. With the ref distracted, he put it on and unloaded a knock out punch right on Jason's jaw. Jason fell immediately and the ref was able to notice in time to make the count.

"One!"

"Two!"

"Three! Ring the bell!" the referee motioned towards the time keeper.

Triple H felt a surge of anger flow through him as he watched Cena and The Leviathan make a run for it backstage. He reached out into the ring apron and pulled out his sledgehammer. His comrades were still fending off the younger superstars and Jason was still out cold in the ring. Feeling pain all over, he slowly limped towards the brawling superstars, grabbed the nearest man and brought the sledgehammer down on his back. The others began to react and jumped him on the spot. He didn't care that they were outnumbered; all he knew was that he had an insatiable hunger for a brutality that they had yet to see. Swinging his sledgehammer wildly, he brought down man after man, until he had to be held back by The Hardys and CM Punk. The medics came running and strapped Jason on a stretcher; his neck was in bad shape and he was unconscious as well. Triple H watched as they carried him away, and with only one thing on his mind: Vengence.


	11. The Plot unfolds

The fans were silent at the University of Phoenix Stadium in Phoenix, Arizona. They were eagerly awaiting the show to start. As advertised on , Triple H was to be interviewed live from WWE HQ in Stamford, Connecticut. The pyro that usually signals the start of Monday Night RAW went off and the fans got off their seats and cheered as RAW officially began.

"Welcome ladies and gentlemen, to Monday Night RAW!" Todd Grisham announced. "We're gonna kick things off with a bang as non other than Triple H is making a special guest appearance here tonight."

The General Manager of Monday Night RAW, Dave Batista, was in the middle of the ring. Batista smiled as he soaked in the applause of the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Batista began, "Without further ado, I am proud to present a very good friend of mine, WWE Legend, Triple H!"

Triple H's image appeared on the Titantron. He was live from WWE HQ and he was not in a cheerful mood. Hell, he was fuming. Last night was a huge setback and they had to start from scratch all over again. Several crew members and agents were still setting up the microphone and the camera. He didn't mind though, he was far too busy gathering his thoughts; thinking about what he would say to the entire WWE Universe. The camera man gave him a signal and he was on the air.

"Hello Dave, thanks for having me." Triple H said weakly and he flinched at the thought of sounding so defeated.

"Now Triple H, what me and the rest of the WWE Universe is dying to know is, what is going through your head after such a devastating loss last night at SummerSlam?" Batista asked.

Triple H paused for a bit and rubbed his chin. "My thoughts? Well, Dave, if you must know, my thoughts are with Jason, who is recovering from a concussion he received last night and my thoughts are with the two men responsible."

The crowd began a Triple H chant. A nearby monitor that was broadcasting RAW featured a shot at the audience, many of them holding up DX signs and Triple H signs.

"Well give my regards to Jason then, but now my next question is going to be a tough one." Batista said with a serious look on his face.

Triple H shrugged and gave him an emotionless expression.

"There have been rumors that for several months now, you were the mastermind behind all the attacks on the Co-Chairman, Hulk Hogan, and on the recent one on John Cena. If so Hunter, then why?"

"Why?" Triple H repeated, "Dave, I'm not going to lie to you; you're damn right it was me!"

The crowd cheered wildly, much to everybody's surprise. Even Triple H didn't expect a thunderous applause. He knew his actions as of late were a bit extreme to say the least, but he never imagine the fans would approve, let alone cheer on his actions. The expression on Batista's face was one of shock, but deep down it was all an act. Batista had known about this for months, but it wouldn't be wise for him to risk Batista's job by revealing their connections so they agreed that it would be best if Batista feigned surprise. The announcers, however, were legitimately surprised and were now mumbling to themselves and discussing the issue.

"And to answer your question, why did I do what I did to Hulk Hogan…" Triple H paused.

He was about to reveal everything. He bit his lip and thought hard about the repercussions. What would this mean to the superstars they had recruited? How will Stephanie be affected? They were bound to target her now that they had actual proof of her involvement.

"When I made my return to the WWE last year," Triple H began, "I had one goal in mind that was to get back on top; in other words, win back the World Heavyweight Championship and have one last run at the top. But the McMahons, my in-laws, Vince and Shane sought to do the opposite. They did everything to keep me away from the title, even to the point of running their own company to the ground by selling their assets to Hulk Hogan."

The crowd booed like crazy the moment Hulk Hogan's name was mentioned.

"You see, the relationship between Hulk Hogan and The McMahons were antagonistic, to say the least. Whatever went through the senile mind of Vince McMahon, he obviously thought it was a good idea to give up half of his family's company to the Hulkster. Hulk Hogan doesn't know shit on how to run this company. The locker rooms are mutinous and contemptible, but does Hogan give a damn? Let me answer my own question: Hell no!"

The camera man in front of him was gesturing him in a 'cut it out' type of way. Triple H shot him a dirty look and continued his tirade.

"So I take it upon myself to put Hulk Hogan out of his misery. I don't care what I have to do to drive him out, but one way or another I will succeed. Hogan's got his own loyal followers, well so have I, and we are prepared to do whatever --"

"Stop! Stop! Stop everything!"

Hulk Hogan marched down the ramp much to the fans' displeasure. Hogan looked confident, Triple H could tell. He has got to be happy with last night's results. He got inside the ring and arrogantly snatched the microphone off Batista's hand.

"Dave, you've done a very good job so far," Hogan said with a huge grin, "And a good job deserves a livable wage, no? Tell you what, I'll give you your paycheck in advanced and then take the whole week off. Go on, you deserve it."

Hulk Hogan playfully slapped Batista in the back and sent him on his way. Batista left without uttering a word and made his way backstage. Hogan continued to smile as if nothing could dampen his day, despite the jeers raining down on him. He had a trick up his sleeve, Triple H thought to himself.

"Well, I guess the cat's out of the bag now. So it was you." Hulk Hogan said cheerfully. His cheerful disposition made Triple H a little uneasy.

"Don't worry about a thing, brother. It's all water under the bridge now, I mean it. Haven't you heard? Last night's event was the most financially successful out of all the SummerSlams the WWE has ever hosted. I'm not gonna fire you for that, hell I'm not even gonna punish you."

Triple H listened in closely. Hogan definitely had his attention now.

"You are a money maker; an asset to this company. I'm gonna show you that I'm not like Vince. Vince never appreciated you, in fact, he wanted you gone. Not me, I'm different. But take note," Hogan said, with a serious look on his face, "You did try to blow up WWE HQ and you viciously attacked a future Hall of Famer, John Cena. Therefore, I'm gonna make Triple H vs. John Cena II at Unforgiven."

For the first time, Triple H felt at ease. The fans cheered on his decision as well. So Hulk Hogan was keeping him; although he sure wasn't gonna make things easy for him. But something told him that Hulk Hogan wasn't even finished.

"How's your boy? What's his name…Jason?" Hogan continued.

Triple H glared at the camera. The rage was building up inside him once again.

"Triple H, I got good news for your boy. He wants to be a star? I'll make him a start, the same way I became a star at WrestleMania III, by slaying a giant. Tell your boy he'll be Main Eventing Unforgiven as he takes on The Leviathan for the Heavyweight Championship of the World!"

Every fan in the arena was on their feet. Triple H couldn't believe what he just heard. Hulk Hogan had just dropped a bombshell. At Unforgiven, it will be Jason vs. The Leviathan for the World title, but more importantly, it will be Cena vs. Triple H II. Triple H clenched his fists at the thought of it. Vengeance would be his come Unforgiven.

* * *

Sorry for the delay...I had writer's block. I hope this story is getting interesting to you people. If this isn't a success by the time I finish, there might not be any more sequels or prequels to look forward too.

-Chris


	12. Delving Deeper

Ben Barker walked along the corridor, swinging the bat and whistling. The walls of WWE HQ were quiet tonight; no one working overtime, a particularly quiet night. He didn't mind. Ben liked it better that way. No one was around to disturb him. As soon as he was finished with his patrols, he could go back to the lounge where hopefully he can get some sleep or watch some TV. Ben was a recently hired security guard at the Stamford, Connecticut-based WWE HQ. When he wasn't patrolling the building, Ben spent most of his time at the employee lounge, where he'd eat, sleep or do whatever he wanted. It was a pretty easy gig, he thought. Nice pay, little to no actual work involved, it was absolutely perfect.

Ben walked past the video library. He glanced into the room for a moment before taking a closer look. He could've sworn he saw a shadow or two move. He squinted his eyes a little bit hoping to confirm his suspicion, but there was none. Dismissing the whole thing as a figment of his imagination, Ben went back to his patrol. He had only one floor left to check and it was off to the lounge for him. He took a left turn down the hall and made his way downstairs. He entered the first room to his right and opened the door. There was already somebody sitting by the security monitors.

"Who's there?" Ben asked.

The man turned around and shot him an annoyed look.

"Jesus Christ, Ben. Calm down it's only me." Charlie replied before taking a sip of coffee.

Charlie was his co-worker. In fact, he got Ben the job in the first place. Charlie had been working as a guard for more than twenty years now. A real veteran. And a real coffee fiend. Ben sighed and pulled up a chair next to him.

"You scared me there for a moment." Ben said.

"Why? What did I do?" Charlie asked.

Ben paused for a moment and thought back to what he thought he saw at the video library room.

"Wait a minute," Ben said, "Were you the one I saw at the video library just a few moments ago?"

Charlie looked puzzled. "No, that's always locked. Nobody goes in unless you're name's McMahon or Laurinaitis. Why?"

Ben didn't answer. He stared into the farthest monitor to his upper left. Unlike all the rest, it was black as if turned off. Sensing something strange, the two of them rushed out of their chairs and back upstairs into the video library. When they got there, to their surprise, the door was not only unlocked but it was wide open. They took out their night sticks very carefully and entered. The entire room was silent. Ben raised his walkie-talkie towards his mouth, but Charlie prevented it. Charlie hushed him, and signaled for Ben to go towards a different direction. Ben nodded and walked away, turning around and stealthily moving past the shelves. After a few minutes they found nothing. The sound of something falling from above, however, alerted Ben to someone else's presence.

Ben pressed himself against the wall and took a peek from the corner. Something had fallen from the top of the shelf. He cautiously approached it and picked it up. It was a WrestleMania 24 DVD. He looked up and saw that he was in between the Divas DVD section and the Monday Night RAW 2004-2005 section. Why would there be a WrestleMania DVD there? He felt a tap on his shoulder. Ben closed his eyes and shuddered. He was about to find out.

Charlie nearly dropped his night stick when he heard Ben's scream.

Charlie ran as fast as he could, following only the sound of Ben's screaming. When he got there, all he saw was an unconscious body. Horrified, he slowly approached the unconscious Ben. There was only one bruise on Ben's forehead but the man was damn near lifeless. He felt his neck. Charlie let out a sigh of relief; Ben was alive. Charlie's mind was racing. There was definitely an intruder. He had to call for help, he had to do something. He got up and turned around but immediately bumped into two men.

"Going somewhere?" One of them asked.

Before Charlie could react, the other one gave him a stiff kick to his temple. Charlie went down and the last thing he saw before blacking out were the two intruders standing over them. It took a while for CM Punk and Rob Van Dam to hide their unconscious bodies. Charlie in particular was getting a bit overweight. They hid the guards in a janitor's closet not far from the video library.

"Remind me what we're looking for." CM Punk said.

"Items for blackmail, extortion…anything we can get our hands on." RVD examined the contents of one shelf meticulously.

"I've already raided the security archives. We'll need videos concerning The Leviathan. If he's going down, we'll have to study him carefully. Tapes. Get his tapes." Punk tossed a handful of DVDs towards Rob Van Dam. They placed it inside a large duffel bag and made their way outside. They sneaked cautiously across the building, all the way to the east wing. Their entrance and escape route was simple; a large vent, big enough to fit them both, leading all the way to the back of the building where a vehicle was waiting.

On their way out they came across an office that had the label 'storage'. Rob Van Dam twisted the knob; it was locked. CM Punk casually motioned for him to step aside whilst pulling out a master key he had pick-pocketed from one of the guards earlier. The door opened, leaving the opportunity to uncover its secrets bare. The room was basically a large filing cabinet, with boxes and papers all over the place.

"Why are we even here, Phil?" RVD questioned, "Let's go, it's 11:30, RAW's probably off the air by now. Hunter wants us to meet with him later so we can give him these."

CM Punk smiled devilishly. "Why give him tapes when we can also add these dirt sheets to the mix?"

He blew the dust off the boxes. Many of them were labeled confidential. CM Punk opened them and quickly began scanning its contents.

"Rob?"

"Yeah?"

CM Punk turned around to face him. "You have got to look at these."

Rob van Dam grabbed the papers and read them as fast as he could. His jaw dropped. He looked at CM Punk, who looked just as surprised as him. They didn't say anything. Instead they placed the papers back in the box, sealed it, and took the whole thing with them.

* * *

Author's note:

Sorry for the delay. I was very busy the past couple of weeks. Hopefully, I should be able to upload more chapters soon and hopefully you'll give me reviews so I'll know what you think of this story so far. Thanks.


	13. Like a Mafia hit

Rain was beating down hard on Denver, Colorado. Despite the foul weather, the Pepsi Center was still packed with rabid RAW fans waiting for tonight's show. It was advertised to be as a super show, which usually meant that all three shows were being taped tonight. RAW was going to be live as usual, but Smackdown and ECW were going to be aired on their respective schedules, the first time in three years that Smackdown and ECW would not be aired live. It was announced on the company's website that the reason for the tape delays was because of the recent disappointing ticket sales over the past couple of weeks, and that this super show was a business tactic to improve sales. But certain wrestling insiders speculate that the reason the shows are being taped is to prevent 'attacks' by a rumored faction within the company led by several disgruntled executives and wrestlers.

This so-called faction is simply 'rumored' to exist due to the efforts of Hulk Hogan. Over the past several months, Hogan has tried his best to make the whole thing look like a wrestling storyline. Even the attack on WWE headquarters was made to look like a work. Backstage, Hogan isolated himself in his office. Despite all the precautions, he still had an aching feeling in his gut that something bad would go wrong. After all, he had sent Triple H on a paid leave of absence until Unforgiven, but he was only exiling one man. The knock on his door made Hogan jumpy.

"Who's there?" Hogan asked.

"It's Eric, from the production truck." Came his answer.

Relieved, Hogan opened the door. "Hey man, what's going on?"

"We're done with those vignettes you asked us to make. It's ready to be aired on tonight's show."

"Good. That'll be all. And if anybody else needs me, I'll be in my office. Tell them not to disturb me for a while."

Hogan closed the door quietly and sighed. He suddenly felt sick. He rushed to the bathroom as fast as he could and locked the door.

**. . . . . .**

"It's done. We're in the system." CM Punk said.

"Excellent. Let's see what we have here." Triple H said, looking over Punk's shoulder.

Behind him the Hardys and Rob Van Dam were busy tying up the incapacitated guards and production truck workers.

"You boys doing alright back there?"

"Yeah, we're cool, Trips. You just do your thing there." Rob Van Dam answered coolly.

Suddenly the door knob began twitching; someone was trying to open the door from the outside. They all turned their attention to their would-be visitor. Triple H walked towards the door and pressed his ear against it. There came the sounds of knocking.

"Hey, open up! It's Eric! I just got back from the boss' office and I bought you guys those donuts and coffee you all wanted."

Everybody stood on their toes. For a while nobody moved and the knocks on the door continued. "C'mon! Open up, it's freezing outside," Eric the production truck guy said. Triple H grasped the door knob and quickly opened the door. A skinny blonde guy with a sweater vest entered the room.

"I couldn't get any bagels, so I decided to go for the jelly stuff instead. Hey, who ordered the latte --?"

Eric dropped the box of donuts and coffee he was holding and tried to make a run for it, but five pairs of hands grabbed him by the collar and dragged him back into the truck. Triple H snickered as he watched his boys proudly go to work. He closed the door as quickly and as silently as he had opened it.

**. . . . . .**

It was five minutes to nine. Nearly show time. Hogan readied himself backstage, giving out instructions to all the road agents as well as the security. Nothing was to go wrong tonight. Hulk Hogan stuck his head outside the curtain. The crowd was getting pumped up with a dark match. So far so good, he thought. He took a deep breath and sighed. He had to keep reminding himself every other minute that it was all in his head. Nothing was coming after him. Nothing at all. Besides, even if the 'other side' of the company would stage an attack tonight, he had enough security to handle them. The producer gave him a signal. Monday Night Raw was about to go live in five…four…three…two…one. The RAW opener began to play in the monitor backstage as well as in the television screens of homes across America. Hogan took another deep breath and, with microphone in hand, stepped through the curtain.

**. . . . . .**

Behind the Pepsi Center, the production trucks laid bare. Every single one of them was completely thrashed from the inside. Unconscious bodies lying on the floor everywhere. Five men went in different directions that night. The Hardys, disguised in thick leather coats, managed to scalp some tickets and entered the arena through the general entrance. Their seats were ringside seats…

Rob Van Dam entered the building through the parking lot. His objective was simple: to kill the lights when he was given the signal and to take out any one who gets in his way. Armed with a lead pipe, he stealthily made his way towards the backstage area…

Triple H and CM Punk kicked the door open. Several women working backstage screamed and alerted security. At least a dozen security guards came running to their direction. CM Punk grinned as one of them made the mistake of extending his hand to arrest him. Very quickly, he grabbed the guard's wrist and after a moment of struggle, the guard screamed. The others came running to their comrade's aide but Triple H was ready for them. Brandishing his sledgehammer, he swung at them, knocking down three guards at once. The area became a mess as an all-out brawl took place. Despite a few scratches and bruises, Triple H and CM Punk continued to fight their way towards the Gorilla Position, knocking out any agent, guard or WWE superstar in their way.

**. . . . . . **

"Welcome to Monday Night RAW!" Hogan said to the cheer of the fans.

"Now, before I discuss tonight's Main Event, I would like to announce that from now until Unforgiven, both participants of the said event's Pay-Per-View will be taking a much deserved time off."

The crowd began to boo. This doesn't seem to faze Hogan. On the contrary, he seemed pleased as if expecting the reaction. He cleared his throat and grinned.

"It's for the best, trust me. I know a thing or two about main eventing."

There was a new chill in the air. Hogan could feel it go down his spine. It was more palpable than anything he had ever felt that day. It didn't feel right, but it was game time; he couldn't afford to show any weakness now that they were on live. Sweat began to drip from his forehead. He glanced at the audience. People were giving him strange, curious looks. He had been silent far longer than he realized. He held the microphone to his lips, but no words came out. Hogan took a few steps backwards and nervously chuckled. He couldn't explain it; it was like intuition. Something was going down. Moments later, the words came out.

"Sorry." Hogan said, surprised at his own tone of voice, "I'm not exactly feeling very well."

The camera man nearest to him gave him a peculiar signal, something Hogan did not recognize. "What?" Hogan mouthed. His answer came in the form of silence. It was then he realized. The camera man was sweating just as much as he was. There was a loud voice coming from the headset the camera man was wearing. The craziest thought just hit him: perhaps someone had broken into the production trucks and was now yelling at the camera man, perhaps to relay a message? Hands shaking, Hogan approached the camera man and gripped his shoulders tightly.

"What's wrong?" Hogan said as slowly as he could.

The man was frozen where he stood, until the words came pouring from his mouth. "Triple H says hello."

The lights went out. The crowd cheered. They thought it was simply part of the show. Hulk Hogan struggled to gain his composure. He pulled the camera man back into the ring and demanded with much greater force to know who he was talking to.

"Rob Van Dam!" The camera man kept repeating.

"Shit…" Hogan muttered. He took out his cell phone and yelled for security to get to ringside. He waited and waited as the cheers from the crowd grew stronger. The anticipation was killing them, Hogan included. His gaze was fixed solely on the entrance ramp, that he did not notice two men enter the ring with weapons. The two men swung their bats as hard they could, and Hogan went down. Staring at the cold, merciless fury in the eyes of The Hardy brothers, Hogan crawled away, up the ramp. As he crawled, fire and light erupted beside him, a pyro technician's dream: the dazzling lights and explosions deafening in their wake. As he reached the top of the ramp, Hogan ran into the one man he feared the most.

"Please…I-I don't want any trouble." Hogan begged as he bent over in shame and fear.

"I know what you did." Triple H replied coldly. "Come Unforgiven, we shall have retribution. Me, my boys…Jason…and even The Leviathan."

Triple H tossed the dossier he was holding towards Hogan. Trembling greatly, Hogan examined it and looked back up to Triple H in fear. It was everything he had worked to keep secret. It was the adoption papers, the legal documents, everything. Everything anybody ever wanted to know about The Leviathan.

* * *

Author's note: Sorry about the long hiatus. I needed to refuel my creative energy for this story in particular. I'll be honest though, this story has been quite hard to work on, and I won't be able to update often. Hopefully I'll be done by December. Hope you all like it.

-Chris Orton


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